I Die A Little Every Day
by Medusa -the writer
Summary: Dean died a hundred deaths in “Mystery Spot”. This is just one possible scenario. Lots of Sam angst! Originally written for the “In the “Every Possible Way” zine, published by Agent With Style, May 2008.


I Die a Little Every Day

By Medusa

Summary: Dean died a hundred deaths in "Mystery Spot". This is just one possible scenario. Lots of Sam angst!

Originally written for the "In the "Every Possible Way" zine, published by Agent With Style, May 2008.

Thanks to my two trusty beta's for their help, Mousitsa and Kam.

Disclaimer: Not mine, sadly. No infringement intended.

**Broward County, Florida **

**Motel Room, 7:30 a.m.**

...Heat of the moment

_Heat of the moment..._

Sam jolted awake and sat bolt upright. It was worse than waking from a nightmare. This was waking _into_ a nightmare. Sam had lost count of the number of times that the day had started out exactly this same way. Seemed like close to a hundred times now. He sat, thinking for a moment, trying once again to sort out in his head what the hell was going on. What he could do differently, this time, to make it stop.

"Dude, Asia!" Dean's cheerful voice added to the assault of the song on Sam's senses, interrupting his thoughts. "Rise and shine, Sammy!"

Sam scowled at his brother, who was sitting on the other bed lacing his boots and bopping to the music. He slammed his hand down on the alarm clock radio hard enough to send it skittering off the bedside table.

"Whoa," Dean admonished. "Settle down there, Slugger, don't shoot the messenger."

"Shut up, Dean. I'm sick of that song." Sam rubbed his face in frustration. "Every freakin' morning," he mumbled into his hands.

"What was that?" Dean asked as he busied himself collecting change and car keys from the table.

Sam noticed what his brother was doing and leaped out of bed, long legs tangling in the sheets which sent him crashing to the carpet, narrowly missing the corner of the other bed with his head. His brother rushed over to help him up and check for injuries.

"Dude, are you okay?" Dean asked, clearly concerned at Sam's unusual lack of grace.

"I'm fine," Sam snapped, brushing him off and viciously wadding the offending sheet up before throwing it in the general direction of his bed.

Dean watched his younger brother with a stunned expression on his face, wondering what the hell had gotten into Sam this morning. Not even awake for two minutes and he was already in a pissy mood. This was going to be a _great_ day, he could tell.

"Hey, princess," Dean jibed at Sam, trying to lighten the mood in the room. "There a pea under that mattress?" He grinned. "Or did you fall out of the wrong side of the bed?"

"Stuff it, Dean. I'm not in the mood. And where do you think you're going?"

"Thought I'd run out and get a little breakfast. You were sleepin' so I thought I'd bring you something back. But now that you're awake, hurry up and we can go to the diner."

"No." Sam placed himself between his brother and the door to the outside world.

"What do you mean, 'no'?" Dean had his 'who the hell do you think you are, telling me what to do' face on now. "Move it, Sammy, daylight's wasting. You've got two minutes to get ready." He tried to step around Sam but found himself blocked every direction he tried to go in. Sam was starting to piss him off, big time.

"I mean, NO! We are not going to the diner. We are not going outside." Sam's voice was calm, deadly calm, but his face was white and his hands shaking. He couldn't go through it again, he just couldn't. There _had_ to be a way to stop it.

"Dude, seriously. What the hell is going on with you?" Dean snapped, trying one more time to side-step the immovable mountain that was his brother.

"Dean, please, sit down and just hear me out. You can't go outside today. You can't eat anything, drink anything, take a shower, or... or... DO anything."

Dean sat on the bed, dumbstruck, eyeing Sam with a look that clearly said he thought his brother had finally lost it. Something was going on with Sam and he was going to find out exactly what that was. Sam was pacing up and down in front of the bed, his movements almost manic. Finally he stopped and sat down on the bed next to Dean, then turned to face his brother. He clasped Dean's shoulders in his large hands and stared him directly in the eye, his eyes filling with tears which he fought hard to suppress.

"Dean, this is going to sound really weird but I need you to listen and to trust me." He paused, looking deeply into Dean's eyes to make sure his brother was really listening. "Today is Tuesday. Yesterday was Tuesday, and the day before that was Tuesday, and the day before that, and the day before that... for I don't know how long now." Sam stopped to draw a shaky breath, trying to keep calm in the midst of his rising panic.

Dean watched Sam struggling to keep calm. He was seriously worried about his brother's current emotional state. Something must have happened that he didn't know about, or perhaps Sam had had a particularly bad nightmare last night. He opened his mouth to reassure his little brother that everything was okay, that he was awake now and big brother was there to chase away the monsters. Sam silenced him abruptly, raising one hand in a 'stop' gesture.

Sam took a deep breath before continuing, "I know what you're going to say. I did _not_ have a nightmare, and it's not a vision... It's real."

Dean's surprise must have shown on his face. _'Is Sam reading minds now?'_ he thought as Sam voiced what he was about to suggest.

Sam plowed on. "Today has happened before. Not just once but nearly a hundred times." Sam saw Dean about to speak again and again shut him down. "It's not déjà vu. Yes, it's a little like Groundhog Day, but it always ends the same. I've tried... God knows I've tried... to make things different." Sam paused and ran his hands through his hair, then down over his face and finally scrubbed at his eyes.

Dean watched him quietly, waiting for his distraught brother to finish.

Sam took another deep breath, "I know, it sounds crazy, but let me explain. Every day starts out the same." He gestured to the clock radio laying on the floor. "Asia, breakfast at the diner, the same people, the same events essentially. Every day just a bit different because I keep trying to change the ending. The day ends when you..." Sam's breath hitched, he gulped and carried on, a tear escaping from the corner of his eye, "You die. Every single time. And I can't..." Sam's breath hitched, "I can't change it."

"Calm down, Sammy. How about you tell me all about it? Huh?" Dean encouraged, hoping that talking about whatever was bugging him would stop Sam's freaking out.

Sam took a steadying breath and then continued to tell his incredulous brother all the details he could recall from each of the Tuesdays, including all the different ways that Dean had died. The ones he could remember or bear to tell, at any rate. And all the things they'd done together to try to change the outcome of the day. Dean sat quietly, watching the distress washing off Sam in waves until his little brother finally ground to a halt with a sob, his head dropping into his hands in defeat. Dean took it all in, a gamut of emotions crossing his features throughout the telling—from surprise to disbelief to amusement to worry over his brother, and through a whole lot more. He had to accept that what Sam was telling him was true, at least as far as Sam believed it. Personally he couldn't remember any of it ever happening, but as long as Sam believed it had, that was good enough for him.

Sam's tale drew to a stuttering close. "And I'm just so tired, Dean. I don't know what else to do. I don't know how to stop it. And I think I'm going crazy."

Dean sat for a moment, stunned into silence. He didn't know what to say. He looked around the cheap motel room as if the walls could give him answers. He sighed heavily. _'Wow,'_ he thought. What Sam had told him was unnerving, unbelievable almost. Except that given all the things they'd seen in their lives nothing was unbelievable any more. He laid a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder.

"Sam, I don't know what's going on but clearly something is. And it's really upsetting you. I can see that. If it makes you feel any better we'll stay in the room today. We'll watch some bad daytime TV, wait the day out. If doing nothing is the only way to get through it, then that's what we'll do."

_'Anything for you, little brother, anything_,' Dean thought.

Sam's shoulder's sagged in relief. Dean rolled himself back and flopped onto the pillows, stretching his legs out. He reached for the remote and proceeded to click through until he found a channel that had something less obnoxious than all the rest. He was determined that, for the sake of his brother's peace of mind, the only thing that could possibly kill him on this Tuesday would be boredom.

*** * ***

Three hours later Dean was convinced that he really _would_ die from boredom.

Sam had allowed him off the bed only to use the bathroom but had insisted that he leave the door open a crack and be exceedingly careful about everything, from what he touched to how fast he walked. Dean had drawn the line at allowing Sam to accompany him into the room while he took care of business. Sam had settled for pacing outside the door the entire time Dean was out of his sight.

When Dean desperately wanted coffee Sam reluctantly agreed and made it for him, double checking every ingredient and insisting on tasting it himself first before allowing Dean to touch it. And then he made Dean sip it slowly so there was no chance of choking.

Dean's stomach rumbled loudly. It was late in the day and he'd missed both breakfast and lunch. Now on top of boredom he thought he'd die of hunger, although he knew deep-down that it wasn't really possible to die of hunger in only one day. Sam glanced across at him guiltily and looked about to apologize, for about the hundredth time.

He held up a hand, "Hey, it's no big deal, Sam." He patted his stomach and continued, "The fuel tank may not like it, but it can go a few more miles." He turned his attention back to the trash on the TV and willed his belly to behave.

Earlier, when Dean had suggested that maybe a little lunch, ordered in, wouldn't be so bad, Sam had nearly had a melt-down. He listed once again all the possible ways to die from food, all the ways Dean _had_ died from food. It was an extensive list and finally Dean had given in. It didn't make him particularly happy, but this was for his little brother. If it made him happy, Dean could go a day without eating.

They tried to wile away the afternoon hours by talking more about all the past Tuesdays that Sam had endured. Dean thought talking about Sam's fears would help but all it did was make Sam even more upset. Dean suggested everything he could think of that might help to resolve the loop, ways that they'd apparently already tried.

As the day wore on into early evening, Sam's nervousness increased exponentially. He jumped at every little sound to the point where he would even go and poke his head out the door to check every so often to make sure no one was lurking outside. He tried to appear casual, tried to concentrate enough to do some research on the laptop, drank far too much coffee and, Dean was convinced, was going to end up bald if he kept running his fingers through his hair much more. He alternated between pacing, sitting at the small table bouncing his knee, and trying to lay on the bed quietly. He kept checking his watch with far too much regularity, even shaking it a time or two to make sure it hadn't stopped. And every time Dean moved or so much as coughed, Sam would literally leap up out of his seat.

Sam's constant hovering was starting to really get to Dean and it took all he had to bite his tongue and not snap at Sam. He was starting to wonder if Sam wasn't having some kind of nervous breakdown. He resolved that if this behavior lasted longer than just this one day, he was going to have to try to talk Sam into seeing a doctor. And that thought scared him more than he liked.

*** * ***

As the room grew darker with the setting sun, Dean reached over to turn on the lamp beside the bed.

"NO!!" Sam yelled, diving at Dean and almost knocking his older brother across the bed and on to the floor on the other side.

"Dude, what the hell?" Dean growled at him.

"I _told_ you, Dean, don't touch anything electrical."

"So, what? We're just gonna sit here in the dark all night?" The whole charade was wearing thin and Dean was about ready to blow his top, regardless of Sam's fears.

Sam stared down at his older brother. Naked fear, contrition, tiredness, guilt and shame all warring for dominance in his features.

"No, uh, no, of course not. I'll get it."

He reached for the switch hesitantly, his hand shaking. _God, get a grip, Sam,_ he told himself harshly. He pulled his hand back, licked his dry lips and reached for the switch one more time, jumping back when it twisted and all that happened was the light bulb blazed on.

No sizzle, no shock, just the normal illumination of the lamp.

Sam sighed in relief and used his sleeve to swipe at the sweat on his upper lip and forehead. He sat heavily on his bed, desperately trying to stop shivering. Checking his watch, yet again, he saw there were just three and a half more hours until midnight. The feeling that they could actually pull this off actually started to solidify inside him. He let out a nervous laugh and looked across to his brother. He knew that Dean must really think that his little brother had flipped this time.

"Dean, I really think we might make it this time..."

Suddenly, the sound of screeching tires filled the air for what felt like eternity. An air horn from an 18-wheeler blasted a second before the world exploded. Sam realized in a split second that he'd spoken too soon.

He screamed, "Noooooooo!" as the out-of-control rig smashed into the motel underneath their room.

The building shattered like so much match wood. Dean's bed and that whole side of the room disappeared from view just as a fiery blast shot flames thirty feet into the air from the exploding rig.

Sam watched in horror, numb, his world shattered once again.

Then...

Heat of the moment

_Heat of the moment..._

7


End file.
